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by Nerd_of_Camelot



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Belonging, Cigarettes, Dipper Pines Has Issues, Dipper Pines Has Tattoos, Family Reunions, Fluff with just a hint of angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insomnia, Older Dipper Pines and Mabel Pines, Pines Family Fluff, Road Trips, Statue Bill Cipher, Swearing, Time Skips, Years Later, he's dealing with them tho, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22895716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: A year after his high school graduation, he got word the Stans were finally back in the Falls.He packed his shit and deep-cleaned his apartment in three hours.Driving into the town's limits, seeing all the familiar sites, made him feel at home. Driving up to the Shack only compounded that feeling. There was a certain sense of belonging, too, and he’d been missing that for the last six years. He hadn’t felt so much like he was meant to be somewhere since he left.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Pacifica Northwest & Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines
Comments: 5
Kudos: 81





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**Author's Note:**

> I, uh, dunno what exactly this was meant to be to begin with? It probably went a way different direction than I intended. I don't care tho, I like how this turned out!
> 
> I'm always a slut for some good platonic fluff and feelings of belonging.
> 
> In case it isn't super obvious: Dipper and Mabel are 19-going-on-20 in this fic!

Dipper had never really been fond of being told what to do.

Growing up, it had always been a sign of someone not taking him seriously. Someone thinking that he wasn’t smart enough to figure it out on his own, without them telling him what to do. Someone not thinking he was mature enough.

He’d never been fond of being treated like he was stupid, or like he wasn’t capable of figuring things out and doing them responsibly.

His time in Gravity Falls only cemented this dislike, but also gave him some understanding of why people thought he wasn’t mature enough to do things sometimes. He vowed to work on that and then to work on being taken more seriously.

Now, his distaste for being told what to do was not necessarily a _complete_ distaste―that was to say, he didn’t mind being told what to do in assignments, or if he genuinely had no clue what he was doing without being told. He could handle it and in fact appreciated it from teachers. It was pretty much _everyone else_ that he didn’t want to take that shit from.

Over the following years, he mastered the art of at least _pretending_ to be mature. It wasn’t hard, given the events of Weirdmageddon, because some things just were not funny anymore. Some things were easier to simply blink at instead of seriously considering. He could pretend to be mature if only out of spite and the fact that he’d dealt with _so much worse, so much crazier_ when he was younger and anything that could be thrown his way now was just… Nothing to him, honestly.

He also expanded his already damn near encyclopedic knowledge about… _Everything,_ honestly… And became so well-versed in most everyday tasks (and several less-common ones) that he could tell when exactly what needed done and could get it done without anyone telling him to do it. And he _loved_ that. He loved being able to do things without being told to. Doing things on his own terms.

It felt great.

He’d spent nearly three years _making_ it that way, and the last three living like that quite happily… Though he’d admit there were some struggles he wasn’t telling people about during that time. Struggles with people he shouldn’t be having struggles with. Struggles against teachers unwilling to admit that he was smart enough to have all his homework done a week in advance. Struggles against administrators who didn’t want to allow him to skip certain classes because they didn’t believe he already knew the material. Struggles against other students who didn’t like him because he was a freak. Because he was too smart. Because he knew how to do things they didn’t and refused to teach them because they _didn’t need to know,_ and they didn’t understand why he thought that. All struggles he prevailed in on his own, in the end, no matter how long they’d drug on.

High school had been hellish, but what else was new, really?

But now, a year after his high school graduation, the Stans had finally arrived back in Gravity Falls, and he looked forward to very little more than he looked forward to seeing them again. Returning to the place he hadn’t seen since the year after Weirdmageddon. The place that had given him the best and worst summer of his entire life.

The second he got the news that the Stans were back, he packed _all_ his shit. Everything. He stripped his little apartment down to the things that had been there when he’d moved in a week after his eighteenth birthday, minus most of the furniture. And he threw most of it into his car, deciding at that very moment that he’d be making a home in Gravity Falls.

It would certainly feel more like home than that rickety apartment had for the past year and a half.

It was mid-February, practically guaranteed to be a long, cold, _lonely_ drive, and he would have to hope what food he’d had in his apartment would last him until Gravity Falls, because he wasn’t keen on using any of the money he had on food unless he had to. He needed the money he had to try and get a place, and, sure, he likely wouldn’t miss $15 for burgers and a drink at some sleazy roadside joint on the way because he’d saved up a _lot_ of money over the years, but a house was his first priority. Worst case scenario he could mooch food from his grunkles until he had a place.

He called Mabel as he got ready to head out, forgetting entirely that it was the _middle of the night,_ and that she was likely asleep.

They’d agreed to go their separate ways, do their own thing, come their eighteenth birthday. He’d moved out a week after it and she’d stayed with their parents until she and one of her friends got a place together a few months later. The two of them stayed in contact, of course, but he didn’t think he’d seen her in person since Christmas and he hadn’t even texted her since New Year’s. He would credit that to his own lack of social skills rather than any lack of love between them, though. Once they weren’t in constant physical contact he sort of lost his ability to stay in contact any other way in a reliable manner.

Point was, she lived with a friend and he didn’t know if she’d gotten the news yet.

She was still just as much of a wild card as she’d been for their _entire_ childhood and adolescence, and he wasn’t naive enough to think she didn’t have her hands in some stuff she really shouldn’t have. There was a laundry list of reasons why she may not have heard, and may not find out until morning.

As he was considering this, he was delighted to hear her pick up.

“Dip?” She asked, sounding groggy and slurred.

“Hey, Mabes.” He said, “I dunno if you got the news or not, so I was just gonna leave you a message. Glad to hear you, though.”

It was awkward.

He didn’t care.

“The news?” He heard her shift, grumbling, “What news?”

“Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are back in Gravity Falls,” He failed to contain the excitement in his voice, “It gave me the kick in the ass I need to head back there, personally.”

He heard her (almost _felt_ her) jolt upright in bed. “They’re back in the Falls?” She croaked, “Shit, Dip, when are you leaving?”

“Uh, now?” He had to admit he was a little perplexed. What did she care when he was leaving? Surely she could get there on her own if she wanted to go?

Maybe she just wanted to hug him goodbye first.

“Now?” She almost seemed to laugh, “Christ, bro, way to rush things.” He heard rustling, “Can you come pick me up? I wanna come with.”

“Sure,” He agreed, and part of him actually sparked with joy at the thought of travelling with his sister instead of travelling alone, “I gotta warn you, though, there’s not a whole lot of room left in the trunk for anything you pack. We’ll have to use the back seat.”

“How much did you pack?” She snickered, and there was the distinct sound of her swinging out of bed and clicking on a light, “You uprooting yourself?”

“That’s a possibility,” He said, rather than outright informing her that, yeah, he was doing _exactly_ that, “Regardless of that, I needed enough stuff to last at least a couple months. And food for the road.”

“Fair enough.” She said, and then aside from the sounds of her packing it was quiet for a while.

Dipper took the opportunity to grab his travel mug and his keys, leaving the apartment key on the kitchen table.

He threw one last glance at his apartment as he paused in the doorway.

It wasn’t ever a particularly stunning place, never particularly felt like home, but it had been pleasant, at least. It had kept a roof over his head for over a year, too, so there was that… Right now it was spotless―kitchen and bathroom mopped and scrubbed down, living room and bedroom vacuumed from floor to ceiling. His larger furniture still stood where he’d placed it when he’d first set up so long ago; armchair next to the window that was now stripped of its blackout curtains in the living room, couch against the wall separating the living room from his bedroom, still covered by the aptly-named couch cover he’d bought for it to protect it from damage, kitchen table and two chairs set near the front wall of the apartment and the half-wall between the kitchen and living room, bed set dead-center in his room beneath another window that had been stripped of curtains when he packed. He’d made the bed up with some of his spare linens rather than leaving it unmade and barren. It wasn’t as if he’d miss the sheets, anyway, given that they were green and he had a hard preference for black _and_ they were about the sixth set of sheets he’d been given after moving here.

He had plenty even without them, thanks.

“Dip?” Mabel asked, finally.

“Yeah, Mabes?”

“You in the car, or…?”

“No, I was waiting,” He told her, and it was only partially a lie, “You ready?”

“Just about. Should be done by the time you get here.”

He hummed, “Alright, talk to you when I get there.”

“Yeah,” She agreed.

They hung up, and he stared at his apartment some more. It was dark, right now, aside from the overhead light in the living room and the distant lights from streetlamps in the other rooms. It felt… Scary, almost, leaving this place. Leaving the comfort.

But Dipper hadn’t actively feared anything in several years, and this definitely wasn’t going to change that.

He flicked off the overhead light and plunged the place into darkness for all of three seconds before his eyes adjusted. This place had always been sort of unsettling with the lights off, particularly at three in the morning, but… Well. Everything was unsettling in the dark at three in the morning.

“Goodbye,” He stated softly, hand on the doorknob, “Thank you very much for the shelter you provided. Thank you for the safety. I appreciate it more than words can say.” He turned the knob, repeating, “Goodbye.”

Maybe it was childish, saying goodbye to his first apartment in such a literal way, _thanking_ it for the time he’d spent in it, but it brought a feeling of closure. It brought a feeling of security.

He stepped out onto the outdoor balcony and pulled the door shut behind him, pausing just long enough to secure a pre-written note explaining where he’d gone to its surface before he trudged off toward the stairs and down to his waiting car. His breath fogged the air in front of him, and the full moon above him bathed the night in a silvery light, casting everything in shades of grey.

He settled into his car and made his way to Mabel’s place.

When he arrived, she was sitting on the porch with two suitcases, sucking down a cigarette and looking uncharacteristically sheepish when she saw him pulling up. She quickly snuffed the cig and grabbed her bags, and with some maneuvering on both of their parts they managed to fit them into the trunk.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Dipper said casually after they’d both settled in.

“I didn’t want mom and dad to find out,” She said with a somewhat weak attempt at a laugh, “And I know you wouldn’t ever tell them, but it seemed unfair to tell you without telling them.”

Dipper chuckled and plucked a pack of cigarettes from his own jacket pocket, along with a lighter. “Secret’s safe with me.”

Cigarettes were the one vice he reliably allowed himself. He knew they were bad for him, probably better than most of the general population knew it. But they eased his stress and he wasn’t eager to give up anything that eased his otherwise overbearing anxiety.

He also allowed himself marijuana from time to time, but only one or two particular blends of it and only when cigarettes just weren’t doing it for him.

That didn’t matter.

“Did you tell your roommates you were leaving?” He found himself asking as he briefly considered whether he should light up or not.

“I left a note,” She shrugged, stretching out her legs and snagging his charger cord to plug her phone in without asking or explaining. “And I’ll for sure text them in the morning.”

He nodded, tucking his cigarettes away when he decided he didn’t really need one right now. He was too wired.

He put the car back in gear and pulled away from the house.

“Dip?” Mabel asked once they’d gotten a few minutes away.

A glance over showed she was watching him, hawk-like in a way she’d only started being after Weirdmageddon and one too many bad boyfriends. He raised his brows rather than saying anything, and she puffed a slightly annoyed breath.

“How long have you been up?” She queried, pointedly, “And how long have you been packing?”

“Not as long as you think I have,” He answered succinctly, “And about three hours.”

“You deep-cleaned the apartment, didn’t you?” And there was a hint of an accusing tone in her voice.

“I may have deep-cleaned the apartment,” He granted.

“You’re not just _considering_ moving to the Falls.”

“... I am not.”

She frowned, but nodded. Turning to look out the window instead, she chewed at her lip. Honestly, she looked worlds more exhausted than he felt―he thought about telling her to go back to sleep, but he knew better than anyone else how shitty his passenger seat was to sleep in. Somehow staying awake in it didn’t make you anywhere near as sore…

There was another silence, punctuated by a sigh from his sister.

“I don’t know how well I’m gonna handle you being so far away. It’s like a nine hour drive to the Falls.” She admitted, “That’s… Way further away than I’ve ever been from you.”

“Living across town is a different matter entirely,” He agreed, “I’ll admit I’m a little nervous, myself, but… Well, we’ll never know if we don’t try?”

She nodded again, then seemed to brighten, “I wonder if Grenda and Candy are still around? Seeing them again would be great―I know I still text them and everything, but in-person is way different.”

“Wonder if Pacifica is any less of a horrible person.” Dipper snorted, and got a whole-hearted (if startled) laugh from Mabel for his efforts.

“She helped us save the world, Dip.” She said, and there was a playful edge to her affronted tone.

“Doesn’t mean she’s not the _Worst.”_ He said, playing at flat honesty when he was actually trying very hard not to laugh.

Another whole-hearted laugh out of Mabel, and the slightly uncomfortable feeling in the car lightened immediately. He couldn’t help laughing along, and by the time they hit the highway it was like they’d never even separated.

It was always like that with Mabel, ever since graduation. They could go weeks, _months,_ without talking to or seeing each other and fall right back into their old habits, and it always felt sort of like coming home. Surely moving away wouldn’t change that _that_ much? It might feel a little different, but surely it wouldn’t be anything they wouldn’t recover from.

“Honestly,” His sister disclosed when they sobered, “As long as Gideon stays at least twenty meters from me at all times, I’ll be totally off the shits the whole time I’m there. It’s gonna be _lit.”_

He chuckled. “I will personally threaten him with bodily harm for you.”

She shot him a disbelieving and amused look. “You’ll threaten him with bodily harm. _You?_ I don’t really think you’ll scare him.”

“I might.” He shrugged, “I bet I could drop kick him.”

She tried to hide her laugh at that behind her hand, but he still saw her grinning.

“I would _love_ to see you try, because either way it’s free entertainment for me.”

He rolled his eyes.

Oh, this was going to be a _long_ drive, but at least he wasn’t doing it alone. At least he had Mabel with him.

“Wanna stop at that shitty diner?” Mabel asked, holding in a yawn as she did so and motioning vaguely at the upcoming diner off the side of the road. “I’ll pay.”

Seeing no reason to turn down an offer of free food and a meal with his sister at nine in the morning, he said, “Sure,” and pulled into the parking lot.

The diner was actually pretty cute, once they got inside. Very quaint and rustic. It reminded him of the diner in the Falls, and that made him feel… Oddly homesick. He missed the meals with Stan and Mabel there. He even missed Stan’s bad flirting with Lazy Susan. Whether he’d known at the time or not, those had been some of the most fulfilling meals of his entire _life,_ and it was the most at-home he’d ever felt. Even if they teased him during the meal, even if sometimes he left wanting to just curl up and go right to sleep for any number of reasons, it always satisfied part of him.

Hopefully, he’d be able to get at least one more of those with them and Ford before Mabel went back home and, eventually, the Grunkles weren’t around anymore either.

The waitress was nice enough―patient while they figured out what they wanted, happy to bring the coffee and food and make small-talk with an exhausted but no less bubbly than usual Mabel. Dipper figured he wouldn’t miss a little bit of money if it went to tipping her.

“That felt a lot like when we used to go to the diner with Grunkle Stan,” Mabel admitted, once they’d paid and left.

“It did,” Dipper agreed.

She chewed her lip. “... Three hours of driving left.”

“Yep.”

“Do they know we’re coming?”

“Nope.”

She nodded, and laughed a little. “Perfect.”

The last three hours of driving were the hardest. Mabel seemed to be fighting to stay awake even in spite of her nerves edging into the territory of ‘totally shot’. Dipper, himself, was starting to feel the effects of being up for roughly the last 32 hours. He got the feeling both he and Mabel would be passing the fuck out the first chance they got. Seemed fair, to be honest.

They just had to slog through the rest of the day first―wouldn’t do them any good to come to visit the Grunkles if they ended up sleeping exclusively during the day while they were here.

Driving into the town’s limits made Dipper’s heart start to pound in his chest, and he both loved and hated the feelings it gave him. The real, actual threat of _fear_ rattling in his ribcage, the excitement buzzing under his skin… It was a horrible, wonderful cocktail of sensations. He was going to try to avoid feeling it ever again.

That was part of why he was uprooting himself to live here, honestly.

If he _lived here,_ then maybe coming here wouldn’t make him feel like this. Maybe it’d just feel like coming home.

And that feeling was there, too, after he started seeing all the familiar buildings and landmarks. His lips pulled into a smile and warmth washed through his upper chest. It didn’t make the other feelings go away, just mixed itself into the spaces between them. He could handle that.

If he focused on the warmth of coming home and the buzzing of excitement, he could ignore the threat of getting terrified for absolutely no reason.

The Mystery Shack was the most welcome of all the sites he saw, and Mabel was almost vibrating in the passenger seat. It pulled his lips into a grin once more, and when he glanced at her he could see she was wearing the same expression on her face. Excitement and the feeling of _home_ washed out all the potential fears, for a moment, and Dipper drove right up to the front porch before he cut the engine. There was a certain sense of _belonging,_ too, and he’d been missing that for the last six years. He hadn’t felt so much like he was meant to be somewhere since he _left._

Almost as if summoned by the sound of the engine, their Grunkles had already stepped out onto the porch before he and Mabel even got out of the car.

Seeing Stan and Ford’s faces light up with a delighted recognition when they stepped out of the car was so gratifying that Dipper didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to _feel._ So he just let whatever was going to happen happen, and he and Mabel legged it the short distance to the porch and all but threw themselves into Stan and Ford’s chests.

“Kids!” Stan greeted them, already prepared to wrap his arms around both of them.

And Ford was just _grinning_ and he wrapped them up in a hug with his brother without ever saying a word, but Dipper could _feel_ how happy he was to see them. How glad he was they were there.

And Dipper felt so comfortable and happy and _overwhelmed_ that he almost started crying.

He did tear up, before he pulled away, and he was grinning at his Grunkles even as he stubbornly scrubbed the tears away.

“Sorry for the short notice,” He said, “I came as soon as I heard.”

“He called me at three in the morning,” Mabel confirmed, also scrubbing away tears. “I’ve never been awake so fast in my _life.”_

Stan laughed. “Leave it to you kids to pack up and set out for a nine hour drive at three in the morning.”

Ford laughed as well, and shook his head. “You’re just in time for lunch―hope you kids are hungry.”

“When am I _not_ hungry?” Asked Mabel, incredulously, and it got both of their Grunkles laughing again as they entered the Shack.

“I could eat,” Dipper assured them with a smile when they finally stopped and threw him a half-concerned look.

“You look exhausted,” Ford commented over their meal, “Both of you.”

“I got two hours of sleep before Dipper called me,” Mabel admitted a little sheepishly, “I didn’t manage to go back to sleep on the way.”

“It’s better you didn’t, believe me.” Dipper snorted, “That seat has a way of making you more sore and stiff than you realized you could be if you fall asleep in it.”

Mabel laughed a little.

It was quiet.

Dipper realized Ford was staring at him. Giving his dark circles a very pointed look.

Flushing and offering a sheepish grin, he confessed, “I’ve been up since six yesterday morning. But before you start lecturing me about sleep, one, I know, and two, I plan to sleep tonight.”

“You should nap,” Ford said, anyway, “An hour would do you some good.”

“You’d wake the dead before you managed to get me to wake up before I got at least four hours of sleep _.”_ Dipper snorted, “I can make it ‘til tonight, promise.”

Ford seemed to decide to drop it, at that, and he nodded his acknowledgement.

It felt good to be listened to. To be _believed_ and not contested on whether or not he knew what he was talking about. His parents would have yelled until they were blue in the face about him needing to go to bed instead of staying up for days on end. Ford would just listen to his reasonings and take his promise of sleeping tonight at face value. He understood the inability to sleep as well as Dipper did and he trusted him to keep his word.

It felt _good_ to be trusted by literally anyone other than his twin.

He had her trust pretty much no matter what.

He had to earn it from anyone else, and getting that precious reward meant a lot to him.

For most of the day, they talked and caught up. Ford and Stan regaled them with tales of what traveling by boat had been like. Told them funny stories and suspenseful ones, and they spent the whole time utterly enraptured.

It felt like home.

And if settling into the old room with Mabel after dinner almost gave him a panic attack or something when he saw the window design, well… That was okay. He’d be okay.

… Bill was gone. He couldn’t hurt him now.

He couldn’t hurt _anyone_ now.

It was just a little jarring for his sleep deprived brain to process the window, was all―he’d thought for a horrifying second that it was _actually Bill,_ not just a vague one-eyed triangle shape. Perfectly normal for someone in his position. Perfectly acceptable.

And once he’d shaken it off and assured himself it was literally _just_ the window, he was able to curl up in bed and fall right to sleep.

He didn’t even have any vague, horrible dreams.

That was a first―he had vague, horrible dreams every night. But he guessed some of that could be leant to not feeling safe anywhere else. Not like how he felt safe here. Not like how he felt completely out of harm’s way here. Bill couldn’t enter the Shack. Nothing they didn’t invite in could enter the Shack.

And when he woke up in the morning it was still somewhat dark out, and he and Mabel snuck out to have a smoke together on the roof and giggle like teenagers about it. He guessed that was because they _were_ teenagers.

“... We’re gonna be _twenty.”_ He uttered, a little surprised and a little dumbfounded when the realization hit him.

“Dude.” Mabel groaned, flopping onto her back, “Don’t remind me.”

He took a particularly long drag off of his cigarette.

Six years. It had _really_ been six years. They were turning twenty at the end of this summer.

It was surreal.

Especially considering he still had nightmares about Bill, still had the constant nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that one day Bill would come back. He’d come for him. For the Falls. It had been six years and his brain still said Bill coming back was just one misguided tourist or kid away.

It obviously wasn’t hard enough to find out how to summon Bill.

He had one of the key pieces forever inked into his skin on the off-chance that maybe having it would mean they didn’t need to draw out the Zodiac to get rid of Bill if he ever came back―just grab the correct people by the hands in the correct order. Having it around counted for something, obviously, but maybe just having it on himself would be enough.

Either way, having the Zodiac tattooed onto his chest and back―both, because what if one got damaged?―did give him some measure of security in life.

He rubbed his hand over the spot where it lay on his chest to remind himself it was there, and forced himself to take a deep breath.

He had _one_ idea for how to set his mind completely (or almost completely) at ease, at least. Some good _did_ come from dwelling on it, sometimes. If he could just go _see_ the statue, maybe it’d settle him. And maybe if he visited often enough, he’d be able to get his mind to wrap around the fact that Bill wasn’t coming back―at least not in his lifetime. Not as long as he was around to keep him from coming back.

“Hey, Mabes?” He piped after a moment, “Do you wanna help me give my paranoia an ass-whuppin’?”

He and Mabel made a day of it.

They packed up food and everything, and let the Stans have a day to themselves. They would all need it, after all.

And they went to the statue and saw it was still there―if getting to be overgrown―, and hadn’t moved, and it set him at ease _instantly._ This was Bill. This was what was left of him aside from memories. He wasn’t going anywhere.

As if seeing the tension release from him, Mabel grinned and handed him her phone so he could take a picture of her squatting next to the statue and pointing at it.

Within moments she’d posted it to her Instagram with the caption, _‘Fuck geometry man of the forest. I hate this dude.’_

With some goading, she also got him to pose next to Bill.

_‘Math nerd dip ALSO hates forest geometry man!!!’_

“You need to make an Instagram,” Was all she told him after making the post.

“What would I even _post?”_

“I dunno, man, maybe candid off-kilter shots of your journals? Occasional pictures of triangle-man Joe over there?” She shrugged, “You’ll figure it out.”

By the time they got home, he had an Instagram.

_mabeleven posted: geometry man posts made dip get an insta lmao_

She’d attached a picture of him frowning down at his phone while he set the account up. He rolled his eyes when she showed it to him.

_mabeleven posted: the nerd has arrived!! everybody welcome math nerd dip @entityerror <3 <3 <3 _

_entityerror commented: You are the bane of my existence. <3 _

_mabeleven replied: you would kill for me bro, don’t even lieeeee <3 _

He spent some time after that _actually_ setting up his account. Setting his name and a short bio and all that _lovely_ fun stuff. His first post was something he struggled with for a while. And then, finally…

_entityerror posted: I can’t believe my actual, for REAL twin sister is such a blasphemer @mabeleven_

The pictures, of course, showed her putting together her sandwich during their little outing that day and eventually putting an unsettlingly large piece of onion on it.

_mabeleven commented: ham cheese and onion sandwiches are GOOD dipper!!!!_

He didn’t think he was going to use the account very much, but at least there were sure to be some fun interactions with Mable from time to time. And since he followed her he’d be able to keep up with her easier once she headed back home.

Mabel decided to stick around until their birthday so that they could celebrate together like they usually did. Dipper pointed out that that meant she’d be here for roughly six months. She just shrugged and said it’d be a vacation before she finally started thinking about college or potentially having to permanently move out of her friend’s house because she was engaged now. She figured six months would be enough to figure out if she’d need to pack the rest of her stuff and start looking for a different place when she got back.

In the meantime, they looked for a place for Dipper and he made a little bit of money on the side helping Soos with the Mystery Shack. That along with writing other peoples’ college papers for them, giving supernatural/magical advice to people, and the savings he’d already amassed in six years meant that he had enough to score pretty much anything he needed.

But none of the houses really felt like _it_ for him. They were too far away from the Shack or just didn’t _feel_ like his.

Mid-March, he caved and decided to buy a plot of the forest within walking distance of Bill, and the Shack as well. The Mayor wouldn’t accept any money for it, though―just told him to take whatever area he needed and do whatever with it. They knew what had happened during Weirdmageddon. They knew who he was. They didn’t want to inconvenience him. And they knew if anyone ought to be living out in that forest near that horrible statue, it was him.

He took it in stride and started drawing up floorplans.

By June he had… Most of a house. The first floor was done and the second floor was on its way while the basement was… Getting there. The team worked quick and he knew it’d be finished soon, which meant it was time to start seeing about furniture.

It was about time, really.

He was starting to get tired of living out of his car.

And by mid-June he was standing in his living room and thinking to himself, _I need to buy furniture._

He’d had the actual construction crew do the bare minimum, with the house. They put up the walls and built the floors and stairs, installed all the necessary junk. He would be the one painting it. He’d be the one furnishing it. Lord knew he’d been the one to cut down most of the trees to make room for the house and have lumber to build it with.

But standing there, in the living room with the bare walls and bare floor and uncovered windows, a second thought occurred to him, unbidden.

He was home.

He was _home._ This was _his home._

He may or may not have sat on the living room floor and cried for a while, after that.

Eventually, he made a habit of going to see Bill every day.

Not because he wanted to see him, but because he wanted to remind himself that Bill couldn’t do anything. He was nothing more than a statue and some painful, terrifying memories, now. He wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t moving or going anywhere.

Somehow, though, going to see Bill every day turned into talking to the statue every day.

At first, that mostly meant venting about Weirdmageddon and the fact that he couldn’t sleep most nights because of Bill. Telling him he blamed him for pretty much every problem he currently had. Getting all the aggression out by just _yelling_ and it was cathartic to be able to vent and think that _maybe_ Bill could hear him. Maybe he could hear and he wanted to reply and mock him but he _couldn’t._

After a while, when he ran out of steam, when he couldn’t vent anymore because it was finally something he was sort of at peace with, he started rambling. He talked about geometry. Talked about the house and furniture shopping and how he was pretty sure he was the only one paranoid enough to still make preparations for Bill’s return. He rambled about spells and magic and other things he never really thought existed. He talked about getting more tattoos, about doing more research into magic.

Having someone who couldn’t tell him to shut up was _also_ cathartic.

And the thought that he was probably driving Bill _nuts_ if he could hear him just made it fun.

He didn’t see Pacifica in person until early July, and when he finally did he wasn’t at all surprised to see her with Mabel. They looked like they were getting along famously, and he was glad. He sidled up to them without any announcement or interruption, but both of them sort of turned their bodies toward him anyway to involve him in their conversation.

“―probably going back home at the end of the month,” Mabel was saying, “You _gotta_ give me your number.”

“Don’t you already follow me on Instagram?” Pacifica asked, quirking her brows in a surprisingly good natured way, “Couldn’t you have just DM’d me to ask for it? Or asked for it at any point before now?”

“I was expecting you to _offer_ it at some point,” Mabel groaned.

“I suppose _you_ want my number, too?” Pacifica asked, even as she was snagging Mabel’s phone out of her hands and putting her contact information in.

Dipper snickered. “I’d take it, if you’re offering. I’m surprised this is the first time I’m seeing you, though, to be honest.”

She rolled her eyes, again surprisingly good-natured, and handed Mabel’s phone back to her. “Your sister keeps kidnapping me.”

“Sounds like Mabel.”

He offered her his unlocked phone, and she laughed while she put her information in.

“She’s even weirder than she was when we were twelve.” Pacifica said with a mock sort of disappointment, “She never stops.”

“Nope, never.”

“I sure don’t!”

“I certainly hope not.” And she shot Mabel a fond look that had Mabel grinning.

Looked like they’d become best friends while Dipper wasn’t looking. Hey, maybe it’d get Mabel to visit the Falls more often. He knew she’d probably only be coming up here for birthdays and Christmas, honestly, and he couldn’t blame her for that, but… Well, the fact that she was leaving soon was getting him a little concerned.

He was going to miss her.

He wanted to see her as often as he could after this, and if that was twice a year then that was twice a year.

“So Mabel says you had a house built in the woods,” Pacifica said, as he briefly surveyed her contact in his phone. “Have you had a house-warming party yet?”

He laughed a little, putting his phone away. “Not yet. I’m still working on furnishing it, honestly.”

“I keep telling you to let me help you pick stuff!” Mabel complained, immediately.

“And I keep telling _you_ that you lost rights to helping me pick when you tried to get me to buy a fuzzy neon yellow saucer chair.” He shot back.

Mabel pouted.

Pacifica seemed to consider both of them for a moment (and probably that horrible chair, too), then said, “I’ll help you pick things out. Mabel can help me with my room―I need a touch of weird in it.”

And so that was what happened―Pacifica sat next to him while he tried to pick things out and sketched out potential room set-ups while they did so. When they got a sketch _both_ of them liked, they decided on the furniture used in the sketch with very few changes made later. It was helpful and made his searching last significantly less time.

Within a week he had his house pretty much fully furnished except for some end tables that hadn’t gotten in yet. A couple of days after that, he got a text from Pacifica featuring her and, behind her, the _exact_ horrible chair Mabel had tried to get him to buy.

_Pacifica said: Your sister is a monster, but it does make a good statement piece._

_Dipper said: Lmao yeah she’s a horrible little gremlin, but we been knew_

At that moment, he got a notification.

When did he get so popular?

_BeaterBeauty sent you a Snap!_

Oh, it was Mabel.

And it was a picture of Pacifica sitting in the horrible chair, looking as regal and dignified as she could. Mabel had slapped heart stickers on it but hadn’t said anything.

He sent back a picture of him laying on his living room floor and captioned it, _‘She loves you, dude’._

All he got in reply was another picture with quadruple the heart stickers on it.

_Dipper said: Pac I think Mabel loves you for letting her make you buy that_

_Pacifica said: She’d better_

In the end, he still didn’t necessarily end up having a house-warming.

Instead, he hosted he and Mabel’s 20th birthday party at his house and let Mabel go nuts with the decorations and planning. While she was setting up that morning, he went to see Bill.

“So, we turn 20 today.” He told the statue. “We’re not kids anymore―like, officially. We’re not even teenagers.”

He sat down in the grass and sort of just stared at Bill. Traced the overgrowth on him, the grass growing up almost high enough to sort of obscure him, the dent in the ground beneath him. You could tell it had been nearly a decade since he’d been dropped here. It was just so obvious.

“I’m so glad you’re gone. I’ve told you that before, but I _mean_ it. I’m glad you’re stuck here, if you’re even here. I’m glad you’re not here to cause trouble. I don’t think I could get through Weirdmageddon 2: Electric Boogaloo.” He snorted and shifted, “That said, I almost wish you were here for this. Even if it’s just so that I can laugh in your face―give you the old ‘you lost’ speech. Tell you all about how much better I’m doing and how you can’t stop me from having a good life.

“Lie and say that I never even had nightmares about you. That you had no staying power with me and no matter how hard you tried you barely even stuck in my mind all these years. That I don’t still jump when I see anything that looks too much like you, don’t still have trouble trusting people because what if they’re you? That I’m ready for you to come back, because I am.

“I really am. Tell you you’re not going to have me off-guard for long when you finally do, if you do while I’m still alive…” He trailed. “I wish you were here so I could gloat. It’s been almost ten years, Bill. So _fuck_ you, I won, I grew up, and I mostly got over what you did. _Ha.”_

He got up, brushed himself off, and headed back to the house.

The party, itself, was hilariously over-the-top, much like everything he let Mabel plan. There were streamers and confetti and too many balloons to keep track of, and a cake that no one ate because _Mabel_ made it and she laughed when she realized it hadn’t been touched and promptly picked it up and moved it to the counter, pulling out a store-bought cake instead.

When Dipper finally poked the one she’d made, he found the frosting was hard as a rock and― and he was _pretty_ sure it was made of soap. She made a soap cake. She made a soap cake expecting no one to even _try_ to eat it and bought a cake so people could still _eat_ cake.

What a freaking _dingus._

“How did you have enough time to make a soap cake?” He asked her, in the midst of everyone else mingling.

She grinned, almost sheepishly, “I made it a week ago,” She admitted, “Before you asked me to do the party stuff. I was just going to bring it as a gag anyway but this was more fun.”

He smiled and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “If I cut it up, it’ll be useable soap, right?”

“Sure will be!” She immediately returned the hug with all the enthusiasm you could put into a one-armed one. “You gonna keep it?”

“I’m gonna have soap for _months,_ Mabes,” Was his answer.

“You might end up glittery,” She warned. “There’s glitter in it.”

“Of course there’s glitter in it,” He rolled his eyes, _“You_ made it.”

She giggled and rested her head against his shoulder, and he just laid his on top of hers. It felt comfortable.

He tried not to think about how she was leaving tomorrow. She was going home. He wasn’t going to see her again until Christmas, if that.

They ended up pulled into the world’s most messy group hug, just a couple of moments later. The Stans and Soos and Pacifica and Wendy and Robbie and Grenda and Candy and _everyone_ they knew. Everyone that Dipper had missed and hadn’t realized just how much. Everyone that he wasn’t going to be more than a couple of miles from for the rest of the foreseeable future, would never have to miss again unless they moved away or he moved or they happened to die.

And he tried not to think too much about that, tried not to worry about his Grunkles right now. Tried to keep his mind on the positive. He was a half-hour walk from the Mystery Shack most of the time―he could get to them quickly and easily. He could see them literally whenever and they’d always be happy to have him. And Wendy was still down to hang out with him when she wasn’t working, and Robbie had chilled out over the years so _he_ was pretty cool to hang around with, and Pacifica was actually pretty cool now _too…_

He was―

He was home.

He had his family, and he was home. He felt more at home and loved and like he _belonged_ here than he _ever_ had in his parents’ home.

And his parents were good people, don’t get him wrong. It was just that their house never felt as much like home as this did. He never felt like he belonged as much as he did right now.

He held back tears on principle, and scrubbed his eyes when they all pulled away. It got him a couple of concerned looks, but he just laughed and shook his head.

“Ignore me,” He said, “Just processing some stuff.”

Mabel gently punched him in the shoulder, but she was brushing away tears as well.

“Well, in that case,” Pacifica said, “You should open your presents. I think we all got you guys something.”

And that was how he ended up sitting in a pile of wrapping paper proudly wearing a pair of pine tree shaped earrings Robbie had gotten him, gawking at the brand new, shiny, top-of-the-line laptop that Pacifica had gotten him, and clutching a _gorgeous_ journal from Ford to his chest. Next to him, Mabel was up to her chest in wrapping paper just like he was, and she had stars in her eyes as she gushed over the phone case Robbie had gotten her.

It had a pink alpaca on it, and he was pretty sure it was all she had ever wanted in her life.

Wendy had gotten her a shockingly practical gift―yarn. Lots of yarn.

Mabel told her, very seriously, that she was going to knit her the most badass sweater with it for Christmas.

Wendy laughed the half-threat off and told her she looked forward to it.

And Dipper just sat and tried to process.

“Thank you,” He croaked at Pacifica, and she just waved him off with a knowing sort of look.

He took the opportunity to sort his emotions out.

And once he had, he looked around the room again and felt that wonderful feeling of being home. It settled him.

He laughed a little, toyed with his new earrings, and watched the antics of those around him. Watched Grenda threaten to eat the whole cake and Mabel sprinting over to try and prevent that. Watched Robbie and Wendy cheer Pacifica on while she chugged a 20 ounce soda. Watched Stan and Ford while _they_ watched the goings-on and wondered what they thought.

He flipped through the empty journal that Ford had given him and thought about how nice his notes were going to look in it. How much more professional it would look.

Right now all of his notes were in actual notebooks, save for one set in a leatherbound journal that had seen better days.

And, breathing deep, he let himself enjoy how comfortable he felt.

“Call me, okay?” He requested, as he helped Mabel heft her suitcases onto the bottom step of the bus.

“I will,” She promised.

They shared a hug, and Dipper savored the warmth. It was going to be a long time before he got to feel this again―at least a few months, if not another year or so. He was going to miss it, and miss _Mabel._ They’d never been so far away from each other before.

“I expect dumb Insta shenanigans,” He warned her, when he was pulling away.

“Good,” She grinned back, and she planted a kiss on his cheek, “I’m tagging you in all the dumb shit I post until I can come back up for a visit!”

“Looking forward to it.”

And she stepped onto the bus, flashed her ticket to the driver, and lugged her carry-ons to a seat. Dipper just watched.

He watched until the bus was gone and it was only then that he realized his vision was blurring up with tears.

He swiped at his eyes, laughed disbelievingly, and piled himself into his car to head back to his house.

He found himself sitting on the ground in front of Bill again.

“... So Mabel went home,” He said, and not for the first time felt foolish for rambling to his one-time worst enemy, “I’m kinda freaking out about it, honestly. I’ve never been so far away from her. It scares me. If she’s not at least in the same town, how in the world am I going to be able to protect her?” He shook his head, “But that just made me think, you know, magic is _real,_ right? So if I’m that freaked out about it, I can just learn something that will keep her safe when she’s far away.

“Fancy that, huh? Me, learning magic.” A snort, “Maybe I could get some more tattoos? Maybe some runes. Stuff with power.”

There was, of course, no response from Bill.

He fidgeted, played with his new earrings. Examined the overgrowth on Bill for the millionth time.

“I hope I’m driving you nuts,” He admitted, “Because it’s the very least you deserve for all you’ve done.”

And he got up, and he went home, and even with anxiety pinning his heart and lungs to his chest plate and ribs, the feeling of being at _home_ and _belonging_ and the feeling of _safety_ washed over him. He breathed the feeling in. Breathed the anxiety out the best that he could.

Sat down on the couch with his phone and waited for the inevitable string of bored texts from Mabel that he’d be receiving over the following nine or more hours.


End file.
